Two Week Vacation
by britt-lipy
Summary: Chapter 5 Uploaded Skinner is forced into a vacation. But staying home for twoweeks proves to be more interestering than he had originally figured when he meets his neighbor.
1. The Joy of Neighbors

This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on where exactly I go with this story.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.  
  
Sloan Bishop, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.  
  
Timeline: Oh geminie Christmas ... I would have to say sometime in the 5th season, before the show jumped the shark. It doesn't exactly fit in any specific episode so yeah, whatever.  
  
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!  
  
* * *  
  
The Assistant Director of the FBI, Walter Skinner, sank into his love seat with the clank of ice against a glass cup. He took a sip of the liquid and swished it around in his mouth. What he wouldn't give for a glass of gin, or rum, or anything with alcohol in it, but all he had left was warm lemonade and a half drunken liter of Pepsi. So Pepsi it was.  
  
It had been a long day, and an even longer week. He sat quietly listening to the soothing sounds of Beethoven and ran the day back over in his head. He had finally gotten done with the pile of paperwork two of his agents had created for him. And then he was politely asked to take a couple weeks vacation while an investigation on those agents was conducted.  
  
He was usually very protective of both Agent Mulder and Scully, but this time Mulder had gone too far, and he had managed to drag Scully along with him. Skinner wasn't sure what exactly Mulder had done. Whatever it was, it was enough to get the higher powers involved to make sure Skinner didn't find out about it himself.  
  
But it didn't matter, he told himself. He would let Mulder handle this one on his own. And if he asked for help ...  
  
Skinner took another long swig of his pop.  
  
If Mulder asked for help, he wouldn't give it. But if Scully did ... he knew he would have to help. He had a soft spot for that redhead. Not in a romantic sense, but more as a father figure. Skinner worried for her well being while she stood next to Mulder. Mulder always meant well, but he managed to get in trouble every time.  
  
A brisk knock on his apartment door brought him back to the present. He glanced down to his watch. 1:13am. Skinner sighed. If it was Mulder, he was going to shoot him. Pushing himself out of the loveseat, he forced his legs to bring him to the door and open it. To his surprise, it wasn't Mulder; in fact it was a completely unfamiliar face.  
  
The woman that stood before him was young. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess. She looked like she had gotten in a fight with a bag of flour, and lost. But despite the white in her hair, across her face, down the front of her black tank top, and a large spot on her cutoff jean shorts, she was incredibly attractive. Her long legs were bare, right down to her red painted toes.  
  
"I'm sorry it's so late," she started, pushing the hair falling out of her hair tie, out of her face, "but I heard music, and I saw your light reflecting off your balcony." She paused for a moment, realizing how strange that made her look. "Yeah, and that sounds really stalkerish. I live next door," she explained, pointing in the direction of her apartment.  
  
"Is there something I can help you with?" Skinner asked not knowing what this girl was getting at.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I wanted to know if you had three eggs I could borrow. See, there was this terrible accident, and well, the eggs didn't make it." And then she flashed him the brightest smile he had ever seen.  
  
He couldn't help it, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into small smirk. "Come on in, I'll see what I've got."  
  
"Wow, he does smile," she said making her way into his apartment. "The boys down the hall say your scowl is chiseled into your face." She shot another smile over her shoulder.  
  
Skinner just shook his head at her comment, and made his way into the kitchen.  
  
Hopping down the carpeted stair to the sunken living area, she looked over all of his furniture, stopping on his stereo system, that was now playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.  
  
"Well, you're in luck," he called from the kitchen. "I have exactly three eggs."  
  
With the egg carton in his hands he met the girl half way to his front door.  
  
"You're a life-saver," she thanked, taking the almost empty carton. "I'll replace these first thing tomorrow."  
  
"Don't worry about it. They probably would have gone bad sitting in my fridge."  
  
"Well, then you should be thanking me," she said playfully, backing towards the door. "I saved your apartment from smelling like rotten egg."  
  
He actually laughed this time. "Well, then. Thank you, Miss ...?"  
  
"Oh, Sloan. Sloan Bishop." She quickly extended her hand for him to shake. He took it, willingly.  
  
"I'm-"  
  
"Mr. Skinner," she got to it before he did. "I know." She smiled again, showing her teeth, and opened the door. "Well, I'll leave you alone. Have a nice evening."  
  
"You too."  
  
With a quick wave she disappeared into the next apartment. Skinner turned back to his apartment, and rested against his closed door. He had no idea he had such interesting neighbors. Hopefully with the time he had on his hand for the next two weeks, he would be finding out exactly how interesting they were. 


	2. Operation Loose Cannon

This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on where exactly I go with this story.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.  
  
Sloan Bishop, Brian Jackson, and Jeff (I don't have a last name for him yet), along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.  
  
Timeline: Sometime during the 5th season.  
  
By the way, a quick thanks for all who reviewed. THANKS!! I absolutely love reviews, I adore them, I live for them, they make my day. So keep them coming!!! Even if it's to tell me something you didn't like, or how you would do something different, or even how you want this story to go, cause unlike most of my other stories, I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this. But it's gonna be a fun trip ... even if it's to no where.  
  
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!  
  
* * *  
  
Brian Jackson slammed his back against the wall and tried to stand motionless, but his chest was heaving. He concentrated on his breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. The blood pounded in his temples. He closed his eyes and finally calmed himself.  
  
"The target is in sight." With the sound of the familiar voice over the com-set, Jackson's eyes shot open. A new wave of adrenalin flew through his body. "Twenty feet from your position and closing."  
  
Jackson gently ran his finger over the cold trigger. He took a deep breath. He was nervous. For the first time this entire mission he wasn't sure if he could go through it. Doubt. Doubt made you weak. So did a conscience. And right now his was nagging at the back of his mind.  
  
Jackson's jaw clenched. No, he told himself. He had to be strong. He had to complete the mission. The ends justified the means.  
  
"Get ready," the voice spoke again.  
  
His body tensed once again. He could feel the individual muscles tightening in his back. He was really going to go through with this.  
  
"Wait for it ... wait for it ... NOW!"  
  
Without a second thought, Jackson dove around the corner and pulled the trigger. He clenched his eyes as he heard the woman's scream. He landed hard on the ground, and he could feel the cool of the gun underneath him.  
  
"Brian!!"  
  
Trying desperately to suppress his laughter, he grabbed his super-soaker and scrambled to his feet. He tried to run, but it was too late.  
  
"You little brat!" Sloan threw her now wet hair out of her face then tackled the boy to the floor.  
  
"You're wet, you're wet! Get off me!" Brian yelled through bursts of laughter.  
  
"Brian?" the voice over the com asked.  
  
Finally getting the upper hand, Sloan made sure the young boy was sufficiently pinned underneath her before she grabbed the walky-talky. "Jeff is this you?"  
  
"Uh ..." came the reply.  
  
Sloan gripped the button and yelled into the black box. "It is! You little creep! You are so gonna get it!"  
  
Brian wriggled under the brunette and took a few sniffs of the air. "Do I smell cinnamon?"  
  
Sloan dropped the walky-talky on the back of Brian's head. "Ouch!"  
  
She pushed herself off of the boy. "I was on my way to drop off some cinnamon rolls at Mr. Skinner's." She held her hand out and helped Brian off the ground.  
  
"Why on earth did you make that creepy guy cinnamon rolls? You should be making them for us."  
  
Sloan twisted her tee-shirt and rang out the water in the cloth. It dripped to the carpeted hallway. "He's not creepy," she said trying to rub the puddle of water into the carpet with her bare foot, "and I did make some for you. Get Jeff. They're in my kitchen on the counter."  
  
"Cool!" And with the super-soaker under his arm, the boy disappeared, running down the hall.  
  
Sloan rolled her eyes. She had known those two boys for over five years. After babysitting the two friends when they moved onto her floor, she knew she would never be rid of them. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She loved those two pains in the neck, and always would. They were the troublesome younger brothers she never had.  
  
Grabbing the bag of cinnamon rolls off the ground, she made her way to Skinner's door.  
  
"He's not creepy," she told herself stopping in front of his door. She went to knock, but stopped, realizing he wouldn't be at home. Shrugging, she put the bag on the floor in front of his door.  
  
She would have to wait to give him the eggs. She really didn't think it would be safe to leave a couple eggs on the doorstep of someone's apartment. Although, with boys like Jeff and Brian, she wasn't sure how safe it would be to leave the cinnamon rolls.  
  
Finally deciding to just wait until she saw him again, she grabbed the bag, but the door flew open.  
  
She actually screamed, jumping back away from the door. Tripping over her own feet she fell to the floor.  
  
"Oh my geeze!" she exclaimed over exasperated. "What are you doing?"  
  
Completely unfazed, Skinner stood looking down at the heap on the floor. He grabbed the edges of his robe over his pajama pants, and covered his bare chest. "I was getting my paper. What are you doing?" Skinner reached his hand out and helped Sloan off the ground.  
  
"I was going to leave these on your doorstep." She held up the now crinkled bag.  
  
Frowning, Skinner took the bag. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
Sloan laughed. "It's alright. I just wasn't expecting you to be here. You're never here this late in the morning."  
  
"No, usually I'm not. I'm taking some time off," Skinner said off- handedly, noticing Sloan's clothing. "Why are you all wet?"  
  
Looking down at her wet clothes Sloan laughed. "I had a run in with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber."  
  
A loud crash grabbed both Skinner and Sloan's attention.  
  
"They're gonna destroy my apartment!" Sloan exclaimed and made a mad dash for her door.  
  
Skinner was left standing in the hallway alone holding the brown paper bag. "Not in my wildest dreams would I have guessed what went on here during the day." Tucking the newspaper under his arm, Skinner turned back to his apartment. He opened the bag peered inside. "Huh." He pulled out a piece of the soft pastry and popped it into his mouth. "And she can cook." 


	3. All Work and No Play

This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on where exactly I go with this story.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.  
  
Sloan Bishop, Alice and Brian Jackson, and Jeff (I don't have a last name for him yet), along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.  
  
Timeline: Sometime during the 5th season.  
  
NEWS FLASH!!! I HAVE DIRECTION!!! Hehehehehehe. I have finally figured out where I'm going with this story, so it won't be another plot-less fic of mine, yey! But I'm not going to tell you, cause that would ruin it. So I guess you'll just have to wait, and read the whole thing.  
  
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!  
  
* * *  
  
Finally shutting off the television, Skinner eyed the desk that sat against the far wall of his living room. It was only one in the afternoon, the first day of his 'vacation' and he was already thinking about breaking the promise he had made to himself. The promise of not working, of actually taking a vacation, whether or not it was forced.  
  
Making his way across the room, he grabbed the brown paper bag that still had a half a cinnamon roll left uneaten. Slowly pulling out the chair to his desk he prayed for self control, a knock on the door, a phone call, or even a natural disaster to stop him. None came.  
  
He sat down and opened one of the many file folders sitting on the oak surface of the desk. He flipped through the pages carefully, sighed, and flipped through them again. The case really wasn't anything of any importance, just something that he had been putting off because he was so busy.  
  
Two hours he worked, milling over pieces of evidence, and attempting to write a report. Pulling his glasses from his face, Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose. That dull ache that usually resided beneath his scull was beginning to surface. Frowning, he realized this was the first time since the previous night that he was compelled to take some painkillers. Usually the Tylenol pills were taken at least three times by this late in the day.  
  
"That's strange," he spoke aloud. It must have been the lack of stress from the office, he decided. Leaning back in his chair, he pulled another piece of pastry from the bag and popped it in his mouth. The sweet bread almost melted in his mouth.  
  
Or it could be her, he thought with an amused look on his face.  
  
"Sloan Bishop," he spoke aloud, and it accompanied a small smile. He couldn't deny he was attracted to her. In fact, she was the first woman he had allowed himself to pay attention to in a long time. Especially a woman he had only known for a day.  
  
I wonder what she does for a living, he pondered as he leaned back in his chair. He bit down on the end of his pencil.  
  
A knock on his door spurred another small smile. He was beginning to make a habit of that. He climbed from the chair and before opening the door; he dug into the wood of the pencil with his teeth.  
  
He wasn't at all surprised to find his smiling neighbor.  
  
"Sloan," he addressed her with a smile.  
  
She cocked her eyebrow and slung her hands over her hips. "You know, if you were that hungry I would be glad to cook for you."  
  
Skinner quickly pulled the pencil from his mouth and Sloan laughed. After recovering, he allowed himself to really look at her. She wasn't wearing very much make up, if any, and yet she still managed to look beautiful.  
  
A moment later, Skinner realized he hadn't said anything, he was just staring at her. "Did your apartment survive?" he asked, finally.  
  
She shrugged, "More or less."  
  
"What can I do for you?"  
  
Sloan flashed him a grin that made him feel like she was going to get him in trouble. "I just wanted your company."  
  
Skinner frowned. "My company, where?"  
  
"At the park. Alice and I are taking the boys. Thought you might want to join us . unless you're busy with more pressing matters." She eyed his desk.  
  
"Alice?" Skinner questioned.  
  
Sloan leaned against his doorframe. "Brian, the sandy haired kid, about yea tall," she said holding her hand up about four feet from the ground. "His mom."  
  
"Ah. Don't they have school or something?"  
  
"It's summer, in case you haven't noticed."  
  
Frowning, Skinner realized he hadn't noticed. Had he honestly been that wrapped up in work that he had forgotten that it was summer?  
  
Skinner pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I would love to go."  
The weather was amazing. It was warm, and yet, the cool breeze managed to leave the hot summer day, comfortable. Sloan was again running barefoot across the grass of the park, chasing the two boys.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Alice found a bench at the edge of the grassy field. Skinner followed her lead and sat down beside her.  
  
"What does she do?" Skinner asked, leaning back on the cool bench.  
  
Alice turned her attention to the man sitting next to her. "You mean for a living?"  
  
Skinner nodded.  
  
"You're looking at it."  
  
Skinner looked up at Sloan. Brian was holding the nerf football to the ground in a punting position. With a quick run, Sloan's bare foot made contact with the ball, but despite her lead in, the kick flopped and the ball landed only fifteen or so feet away from the two. Sloan dropped to the ground, doubling over with laughter.  
  
"She doesn't work?"  
  
"Not unless you consider getting into trouble with two twelve year olds work."  
  
Skinner frowned. "Then how does she-" but his question was cut off.  
  
"Mom?" Brian's voice interrupted Skinner and Alice's conversation. "What time is it?"  
  
"Where's your watch?" Alice asked in a very motherly tone.  
  
"I broke it yesterday, remember? What time is it?" the boy asked again.  
  
Sighing Alice glanced down at her watch. "Almost 5:30, why?"  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
"Me too," Jeff chimed in.  
  
"Me too mom, when are we gonna eat?" Sloan said, mocking the two boys.  
  
"I'm not feeding any of you tonight. It's Sloan's turn." Alice said pointing to Sloan who was busying sticking out her tongue at the boys.  
  
"Oh yeah," she said remember. Then she turned to the boys. "I've got stuff for nachos."  
  
"Nachos!" the boys exclaimed in tandem. 


	4. Stepping Over the Line

This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on where exactly I go with this story.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we will continue to not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek, and allowing the show to jump the shark.  
  
Sloan Bishop, Alice and Brian Jackson, and Jeff (I still don't have a last name for him yet ... hey if anyone has a good last name for him, let me know), along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.  
  
Timeline: Sometime during the 5th season.  
  
Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I'm at the end of the school year and massive amounts of finals and stuff like that. I'm planning on doing a lot of writing over this summer, so stay tuned!!!  
  
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!  
  
* * *  
  
Skinner slunk back away from the chaos that was Sloan's kitchen. The two boys were offering their expertise and grating cheese, even though their help managed more cheese on the counter and the floor than actually in the bowls. Sloan was cooking some ground beef, and Alice was attempting to try and work Sloan's microwave for the beans.  
  
With a glass of strawberry Cool-Aide in his hand, Skinner smiled and turned to explore the living room. For an apartment that had the exact same floor plan as his own, it looked like a completely different home.  
  
It was a complete organized clutter. Unlike his apartment, hers looked lived in. All of her furniture looked expensive, and exotic. Everything from big white leather couches, to classic English tables, to Japanese room dividers, to paintings by the Big Four, mostly da Vinci. Tucked away in every painting's frame were photos.  
  
Skinner glanced to over the photos. Most of the pictures were of Sloan and the boys, but one caught his eye. Sloan was standing in Red Square in Moscow; with a man Skinner assumed was her father. She was young, sixteen or seventeen, and smiling brightly.  
  
"You've been to Russia?" Skinner asked turning his attention back to Sloan, with the photo in his hand.  
  
"Sloan's been everywhere!" Jeff exclaimed, excitedly.  
  
"Russia, Germany, Africa, China, France, Paris," Brian said bringing plates to the table.  
  
"Paris is in France, you geek," Sloan said ruffling Brian's hair. Setting the cups on the table, Sloan looked up at Skinner. She almost looked hurt for a moment, remembering all the places she'd been. But her features quickly changed, and she smiled. "My father took me with him while he was on business."  
  
Skinner put the photo back in the frame. "What did your father do?"  
  
"Um, he was in the art world," Sloan said turning back to the kitchen.  
  
Skinner frowned. Her father didn't look like an artist, perhaps a collector, or a dealer. But he didn't have a chance to ask the specifics. A buzzer went off and the smell of melted cheese filled the air.  
  
"First batch is done," Sloan announced, and everyone filled over to the table.  
  
Skinner sat down next to Jeff, and began dishing up the nachos for everyone.  
  
"Are we forgetting anything?" Sloan asked sitting down next to Skinner.  
  
"Napkins," Alice said.  
  
"Oh yeah." Sloan left the table in search for napkins.  
  
Jeff caught Skinner's attention when he elbowed him in the side.  
  
"Pssstt!" Jeff motioned to his hands, which were sitting on either side of his plate with his thumbs up. Skinner frowned, but Brian encouraged him by nodding, holding his thumbs up as well.  
  
Deciding not to question it, he did as the two boys instructed, and rested his hands on the table with his thumbs up. Alice smirked at the boys, but did it as well.  
  
"Found the napkins," Sloan said and skipped back to the table. "Ooo," she said stealing a chip off of her plate. Silence set in as everyone waited for Sloan to notice their thumbs up. "Aw. That's not fair," she said sighing, and the boys burst out laughing. "You caught me off guard with the napkins." Rolling her eyes, she bowed her head and intertwined her fingers together. The others did the same.  
  
Skinner finally realized what they were doing. The last person to hold up their thumbs had to pray. Despite the fact that he hadn't prayed since he was young boy, he bowed his head and folded his hands.  
  
"Dear Lord, thank you for this time we have together, with old friends," Sloan opened her eyes and caught Skinner's gaze, "and new friends. Please bless this food for the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus name, amen."  
  
"Amen," Alice, Jeff, and Brian said in tandem. They all opened their eyes and began eating.  
  
"So," Brian said to Skinner, slopping sour cream on his nachos. "Is it true? Do you really work for the FBI?"  
  
Skinner nodded.  
  
"Wow," Jeff said with a mouth full of chips. "Have you ever killed anyone?"  
  
"Jeff!" Alice chastised.  
  
His head fell. "Sorry."  
  
"So what do you do at the FBI?" Alice asked, saving Jeff from further embarrassment.  
  
"I'm an Assistant Director."  
  
"What does an Assistant Director do?"  
  
Skinner smiled. "A lot of paperwork."  
  
"And you're on vacation?" Sloan asked.  
  
"A sort of forced vacation," Skinner explained. "For two weeks."  
  
The rest of the dinner was highly entertaining for Skinner. The way Alice and Sloan interacted with the boys was like nothing he had ever experienced before. They joked and made fun of one another, and he could tell they really cared for one another. Skinner felt happier just being around them.  
  
Alice finally called it a night after the boys resorted to attacking each other with spit wads. So Sloan and Skinner were left alone.  
  
"Coffee? Hot cocoa?" Sloan asked from the kitchen.  
  
Skinner, who was sitting on one of the plush couches, looked up. "Coffee would be wonderful. Black."  
  
Sloan joined him a few moments later with two steaming cups. She handed him one of the cups and smiled.  
  
"Thank you," Skinner said taking a sip of the hot drink. He looked to the other end of the couch and noticed colorful little puffs in Sloan's cup. "Marshmallows in coffee?" he questioned.  
  
She smiled, pulling her legs up on the couch, crossing them. "Hot chocolate. I don't like the taste of coffee. Love the smell, just not the taste." She paused, and her eyes suddenly lit up. "But if I had to kiss you later, I wouldn't mind."  
  
Skinner was absolutely shocked. He didn't know what to say, but luckily he didn't have to say anything.  
  
Putting her cup carefully on the coffee table, she spoke as if she didn't say her last comment. "Why were you forced to take a vacation?"  
  
Skinner frowned, but answered her non-the-less. "Two of my agents got into some trouble. They are facing a trial. And until their trial is over, I'm on vacation."  
  
"What did they do?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Skinner said speaking into his coffee. He took another sip.  
  
"Aren't you going to try to find out what happened? And help them?"  
  
Skinner could feel himself slipping back into his shell. "No," he growled. "They got themselves into this mess. They can get themselves out, without my help."  
  
"But-"  
  
"They have been nothing but a nuisance since I was assigned to them."  
  
"They say attitude reflects leadership," Sloan stated matter-of-factly.  
  
Skinner stood. He didn't need this. Didn't need a young girl telling him how run his life.  
  
"Thank you for the dinner," he said, trying to be polite. "But I think I'll call it a night."  
  
Sloan stood, hoping to stop him. "Mr. Skinner, please. I'm sorry." Skinner handed Sloan his coffee and turned away from her. "Skinner?"  
  
But he was already at the door. "Goodnight," he said sharply, and left her apartment.  
  
Sloan sighed. That didn't end the way she had wanted, at all. 


	5. The Wolves

This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on where exactly I go with this story.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we will continue to not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek, and allowing the show to jump the shark.

Sloan Bishop, Alice and Brian Jackson, and Jeff (I still don't have a last name for him yet ... hey if anyone has a good last name for him, let me know), along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.

Timeline: Sometime during the 5th season.

Wow, I'm updating. I bet none of you thought you would live to see this day. We'll see if I can keep it up.

Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!

-----

The lights reflected as a shiny grey off of the black floor. The walls were a lighter version of that grey, and the benches the same black as the floor. Whoever decorated knew what went on behind those dark mahogany doors, and wasn't wanting to lift spirits.

Special Agent Dana Scully had seen her share of horrible things, but nothing made her as nervous as this hallway. She had been sitting on the hard bench for over an hour, waiting. She new that Mulder's hearing was set to begin a half hour ago, and she was hoping she would be able to speak with him before she went in. But apparently it had started early, because the doors were shut and she was instructed to wait when she arrived.

Or he hadn't even shown.

The second option seemed more likely. She sighed, and the sound seemed so hollow in the empty hallway. She noticed for the first time that the painting of the red square in a canvas of black was no longer hanging on the far wall. Sad, she liked that one.

The silence was cut as the distinct sound of high heels on marble echoed along the bare walls. The young secretary rounded the corner with a stern look on her face, making her look far older than she was.

"They will see you now," she said coming to a stop directly in front of the agent.

"So soon?" she questioned, collecting her briefcase.

"Agent Mulder—"

"Didn't show." Scully finished the girl's sentence.

She shook her head in confirmation. Scully stood, taking a moment to straighten her skirt, and was led down the hall and to the office. It wouldn't be the first time she would face the council without her partner. At least this way she wouldn't have to worry about matching whatever crazy story he came up with.

It was better this way, she lied to herself, and the young girl opened the door and led Scully to the wolves.

-----

There was a beeping noise, and Mulder couldn't decide if it was in his head or if there was actually something beeping. He was laying a mattress, but not a very comfortable one. There was a pole across the middle of it, which was pressing painfully into his lower back.

But that wasn't the only point of pain on his body. His left wrist ached dully, and there was a sharp pain, like a cut, just above his right eyebrow. He was pretty sure there was a deep bruise around his eye because the pressure he felt at his temple pulsed. His left side hurt every time he took a breath, and his legs were sore, like the sore you get after running a marathon.

Mulder didn't run.

He finally decided he should open his eyes and figure out exactly where here was. The light was bright, and it stung. He groaned and tried to roll over on his side.

"I think perhaps you should lie still for a bit longer." Mulder knew that voice. He looked over to where a man in a suit was sitting next to the bed. It was Byers. Relief washed over him, and he slumped back down on the bed. If the Lone Gunmen were there, he would be okay, at least for a bit.

"Do you know what day it is?" it was Langly who spoke.

"Monday, I think," Mulder responded without opening his eyes. "What time is it?"

"10:23. You're lucky to be alive. Byers found you in the park, by a dumpster."

Mulder frowned, not at the oddity of being found by a dumpster, but because there was a tickle in the back of his brain that there was somewhere he was supposed to be. "10:23 in the morning?"

"Yep," Frohike stated from across the room. "He must have hit his head harder than we thought."

Mulder opened his eyes, but still didn't move. He was supposed to be somewhere. At 8:00. He could feel a headache coming. "Oh shit," he sat straight up. "Scully."

His vision went blurry, then completely black. A wave of nausea hit and he couldn't hold it in. He turned and vomited on Byers.


End file.
